


sweet like candy skulls

by spa_ghetto



Series: JATP Week 2020 [1]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Dancing and Singing, Día de los Muertos | Day of the Dead, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Singing, The Molinas, and that's okay, because of course she is, debut band performance, found family fluff, really julie is still grieving, she's not alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27364168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spa_ghetto/pseuds/spa_ghetto
Summary: It's Julie's first Day of the Dead without her mom.
Relationships: Alex & Flynn & Julie Molina & Luke Patterson & Reggie, Alex & Julie Molina & Luke Patterson & Reggie, Flynn & Julie Molina, Julie Molina/Luke Patterson
Series: JATP Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1998682
Comments: 10
Kudos: 181





	sweet like candy skulls

**Author's Note:**

> day one of jatp week: favorite character(s)
> 
> i don't have ONE favorite character, so i wrote from the POVs of my main five :)
> 
> disclaimer: i'm not of the latino community. the spanish in this fic is from my limited knowledge i remember from class & that also goes for the traditions of day of the dead (as well as info i pulled from the internet, of course). so if anything is wrong here, please let me know!!
> 
> enjoy :))

**FLYNN**

“Flynn, no pressure, but I’m performing tonight,” Julie says while Flynn is dipping her brush into the black paint. “So, you know, make me look pretty.”   


Flynn gasps, almost jerking her hand when she looks back at Julie. Julie catches her wrist before she can fling paint everywhere. “You didn’t tell me you were performing tonight!” She pauses, looking over her current progress. “Now  _ I’m _ nervous.”

“I have total faith in you.” Julie’s eyes dart between the paint brush and Flynn. “But show me how it looks so far?”

Pursing her lips, Flynn shakes her head, grabs Julie’s shoulder, and aims the paintbrush at her cheek. “No way. You didn’t let me see until you were finished.”

“But—” Julie freezes when the brush touches the corner of her mouth, and her eyes quickly move to something behind Flynn. Her lips begin to twitch into a smile.

“Hey, hey!” Flynn cries. “No moving.”

“The guys are confused.”

“I’ll explain. You stay quiet.” Flynn gives her a second to stop laughing before continuing the delicate line she’s trying to curve across her cheek. She takes it slow, agonizingly, if Julie’s eyes are anything to go by. “So,” Flynn begins loudly to the dense air around her, “we’re getting ready for Day of the Dead, which is a holiday Julie’s family celebrates. I’m trying to draw a sugar skull design on her, like she did for me.”

Julie has always been the residential sugar skull designer in the house. She always drew Carlos’ face, her mom’s, and Flynn and Carrie’s. Usually, she does herself too, but this is their first Day of the Dead without her mom, so Flynn has decided to take the paintbrush into her own hands and surprise Julie with something beautiful—or try to, anyway.

Flynn’s face looks  _ awesome. _ Julie painted only half in white with a fissured edge down the center of her face. From her eyebrow to her cheekbone, her eye is circled in green and lined with black. Half of Flynn’s mouth stretching to the middle of her cheek has been transformed into skeletal teeth with a vibrant green glow. Her dimple has layers upon layers of dark and light green paint, carefully blended to look like a real skull indentation. Small black circles line the top of her eyebrow, and thin black lines curve across the empty space of her cheek.

For Julie, Flynn is going for a more  _ simplistic _ look—all of the drawing talent in the friendship seems to have been swallowed up by Julie. Right now, she’s focused on a curved black mouth stretching from one ear to another, adding extra detail to her lips to create a stitched effect, and then? She’ll figure it out from there.

“And I’m not taking any opinions from them,” Flynn declares. She holds her breath until the second line finally meets her ear and she’s finished with the mouth base. “They’re probably biased.”

Julie smiles as Flynn grabs her paint cup. “Actually, Alex says he likes what you’re doing so far.”

“… I’m only taking feedback from Alex.”

Julie laughs. Flynn can’t fight back her smile. “Reggie and Luke like it too,” she adds, smiling up at the space behind the couch. “They think I look scary.”

“How do I look?” Flynn asks, brushing her hair out of her face and looking up at the air, as if she can really see them. She wishes she could.

“They say you look amazing,” Julie translates.  _ “I _ did that, by the way, so thank you.” She grins at them. Someone must reach for a fist bump, cause she reaches her fist across the couch.

“Okay, if you’re going to stay, you  _ can’t _ make her laugh.” Flynn leans forward, carefully painting over the tip of her nose. “She has a performance tonight, and if I mess up, you can’t fix it. I forbid it.”

“No—” Julie whines.

“You knew the risks when you agreed to let me do this!”

“You didn’t give me a choice!” 

Flynn smacks her. “Stop smiling!” But she’s grinning too. It’s hard—how can you look at your best friend and  _ not _ smile? Flynn waves a hand between them. “Okay, okay, we have to get this done. My hand is tired.”

Julie chuckles. “Okay.” She glances to her left. “No, I didn’t tell anyone I’m performing tonight. It was  _ supposed _ to be a surprise.”

“Then why’d you tell me?” Flynn demands.

“To make sure you don’t make me look bad!”

Flynn scoffs. Her finger lifts Julie’s chin to make their eyes meet. “Girl, it’ll take a lot of paint to make you look bad.”

Julie grins.

“And Luke better not have said something equally as cute just then.”

“No—” Julie says it like the idea is overly ridiculous, and Flynn wants to roll her eyes.  _ “Of course not.” _

“Mmhm. Hold still.”

Julie and Luke are dating. Flynn isn’t sure how that works—him being a ghost and everything—but Julie makes it make sense. And what can Flynn say? As long as Julie’s happy…

Forty-five minutes later, Flynn sits back with a sigh to admire her work. One of the guys poofed into Julie’s room to grab her makeup back, so Julie’s eyes are shining with pink and purple eyeshadow to match the pink patch surrounding her right eye. Flynn finished Julie’s eye with a thin black ring and pink and purple circles curved halfway around the top and bottom of her eye. Julie’s nose is black—Flynn’s sure she’ll add more detail in her room later. Then Flynn will complain that she messed with a masterpiece, even though she’ll love whatever additions Julie draws in.

“Wow, okay,” Julie says, looking at herself in her phone’s camera. “This looks so good. Way to pop off, Flynn.”

Flynn waves herself. “Thank you, thank you. It’s my hidden talent.”

Julie grins over her phone. They share a beat of silence before bursting into laughter. Julie leans forward, throwing an arm around Flynn’s shoulders and holding her phone above their heads. They take bursts of pictures, some serious, most silly. They play with Snapchat filters, film TikToks. It’s fun—Day of the Dead is always fun. Especially this year: the year Julie found her music again.

  
  


**LUKE**

He knocks before entering her room. As he passes through the door, he can hear Flynn and Carlos arguing about what color icing should go on the cupcakes. Alex and Reggie are down there too; he hopes Alex doesn’t let Reggie do anything crazy tonight.

Julie’s sitting in front of her mirror, humming and painting over her eye. She glances at him as she walks in.

Luke chuckles. “Flynn’s not going to be happy you’re changing her design.” He pulls her desk chair over and takes a seat next to her.

“I’m not changing it.” Julie dips her brush into pink paint. “I’m just… adding some stuff. I had an idea.”

“Flowers?”

“Dahlias.” She side eyes him and smiles. “My mom loved dahlias.” She balances her palette on her knees, steadying it with one hand while leaning forward to paint a second flower at the corner of her eyebrow.

“Here,” Luke offers, reaching under her arm to grab the paint. He holds the palette next to her, and when she reaches over to dip her brush, she smiles in thanks. “So, what exactly  _ is _ Day of the Dead?”

“First of all, it’s usually pronounced  _ Día de los Muertos,” _ she begins. Oh God, he loves when she speaks Spanish. “It’s a three day festival where we celebrate the lives of those we’ve lost. My dad’s side is coming over—we always celebrate with the Molinas. My mom was Puerto Rican; they don’t really observe this holiday. But she celebrated with my dad when they first started dating, and she fell in love with the holiday.”

“What’s so great about it?”

Julie waves a hand at her face. “The makeup. The costumes. The music, dancing, food… Just having family around. Being completely immersed in our culture.” She shrugs at him. “We speak Spanish sometimes around the house, but it’s my grandparents’ first language. They had to learn English when they first came to America, but they  _ prefer _ Spanish.”

“Where’d they come from?”

“Panama.” Julie pauses, carefully painting leaves around the base of her dahlia. “My grandparents have  _ ofrendas _ set up at their house— _ ofrendas _ are altars where we leave offerings for those who have passed. Tonight, we’re going to the cemetery to visit Mom’s grave.”

He notices the way she falters when she mentions her mom. He hates when that happens; always wants to kiss away the sadness. When Julie puts down her paintbrush, he takes her hand in his.

“Hey,” he whispers, running his thumb over her knuckles.

Julie takes a deep breath. “We didn’t celebrate last year; it was too close to Mom passing away.” She shrugs. “We didn’t have it in us.”

“This is your first year without her,” Luke realizes quietly.

“We have an  _ ofrenda _ downstairs for her. Dad and Carlos did most of it. I was supposed to find some stuff in the studio, but—” She shakes her head. “It’s just weird. This was her favorite holiday, and now she’s—” Julie rolls her eyes. “I know it’s been a year, but—”

“Hey,” Luke interrupts. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers linger against her skin, cupping her cheek, mindful of the paint. “This is your first year without her. It’s okay to still be sad, Jules.”

Julie’s next breath is shaky; her eyes are glossy as she looks away. “Can’t cry,” she mumbles, shaking her head. “Flynn will kill me.”

Luke laughs. Behind him, he hears the  _ whoosh _ of Alex and Reggie poofing in her room. Julie smiles weakly at them.

“Were we _ interrupting?” _ Reggie asks, raising his eyebrows knowingly.

Alex shakes his head. “Sorry. He kept stealing Flynn’s cupcakes to give to Carlos, and I knew he’d either scare your  _ tía _ or Flynn would hit him with a spatula if we didn’t get out of there.”

“Carlos  _ deserved _ to win—”

Julie laughs out loud. She wipes at her eyes carefully; Luke hopes she’s forgotten her grief for now. Luke grins at her. He loves her laugh. Have I mentioned he’s kinda just in love with her?

“We have a little bit before my family arrives,” Julie says, checking her phone. She tugs her lip between her teeth. “And I have extra paint…?”

Reggie bounces on his feet. “Yes!” he cries. “I want a face painting!”

As soon as Luke steps away from the chair, Reggie is there, knees bumping against Julie’s. “Make me look cool.”

Alex lays across her bed, resting his chin in his hands as he watches them. Luke hands the palette to Julie and steps out of her way. While she works on pouring more paint out, he dips his head and presses a soft kiss to her hair. Then he takes a seat next to Alex.

Luke grins. “I call next!”

  
  


**REGGIE**

He knows the party is really in full swing when the sugar skulls are beginning to set in and the children running around are almost as loud as Julie’s cousins playing music on the back porch. Carlos’ real teeth are black; they match the set Julie painted on him. It looks a little creepy; his tía Victoria chastises him to go brush every time he grins at her in passing.

Reggie ducks past people as if they won’t pass through him; it’s still weird to him, and he knows they feel the same way. At some point, he was separated from his friends. He sees Luke and Julie every now and then—Julie’s making her rounds with her family, and Luke is by her side like a puppy—but he hasn’t seen Alex in a while. He wonders, in the back of his mind, if Alex is even still around. Would he leave a party? He’s done it before. If there’s a chance he can hangout with Willie? No doubt. But would he leave  _ Julie’s _ party to hangout with Willie? Hm.

His favorite thing, he thinks as he walks through the house, is the atmosphere. There are so many people around—and most are Ray’s siblings! Julie mentioned in the middle of face painting that Latino families are often big, but he wasn’t expecting _ this! _ He loves it, though. Sometimes he lingers in a room before moving on, and he hears stories about Ray from his siblings: childhood mishaps and teenage antics.

And with so many siblings comes cousins. They range in age, from Carlos’ to Reggie’s. He overhears Carlos tell the other kids about the ghosts that haunt their house—Reggie leaves with a personal promise to prove him right later.

On his second walk through the living room, he finally spots his friends: Alex is sitting on the arm of the couch next to Flynn with Luke next to him. Julie stands beside an older man with a long beard and a guitar on his lap. Just as Reggie’s about to cross the room to them, something catches his eye. 

It’s a shelf to his left, spotted with candles, photos, and flowers. He steps closer, curious. There’s a picture of Julie’s mom in a frame on top, he thinks. She looks… familiar. On the first shelf down is a pair of drumsticks and guitar picks. Reggie frowns. Why are there… drumsticks? He reaches for them. They couldn’t be Alex’s… could they? Why would his drumsticks be—

“I told you our house is haunted!” Carlos cries, and that’s when Reggie notices how  _ quiet _ everything is suddenly. The drumsticks bounce against his fingers and roll back against the shelf wall.

“Reggie,” Alex hisses behind him.

“Dude, your drumsticks are up here!” Reggie cries.

“My—What?”

Julie moves when no one else does. She’s not looking at Reggie, but he begins apologizing anyway, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare everyone.”

“It’s okay,” she says quietly, reaching for the sticks. “Whose are…?”

“I found them in a box of your mother’s things,” Ray explains, walking over.

Reggie throws a knowing  _ look _ at Alex. Alex frowns and summons his drumsticks. They appear in his hand in a flash, and when Reggie turns back, there’s still a pair in Julie’s hand.

“Oh,” she says. “I didn’t know she played.”

Ray chuckles. “Your mother  _ played _ every instrument she could. Now, there’s a difference in playing and actually sounding good… Although  _ extremely _ talented, drumming is  _ not _ something she  _ excelled _ at.”

This earns a round of laughter from their family. From Julie, who’s beaming under her makeup at the new information. From Alex, who adds a “If that isn’t a mood” under his breath.

“What—” Luke argues. “Dude, you’re  _ literally _ a drummer.”

“I make it look  _ easy.” _

Luke rolls his eyes.

“The guitar picks are hers too,” Ray adds, pushing them into his hand. “Look, they have the logos from each of the bands she was in.”

“I’m sorry.” Julie shakes her head. “I should’ve grabbed these from the studio. You told me to find things for her ofrenda, but I—”

“Hey, it’s okay mija,” Ray interrupts. He squeezes her shoulder. “It was actually fun going through her old stuff again. I, personally, haven’t seen these in years.”

Reggie realizes he’s smiling long before Julie finds her strength again. He loves the father-daughter moments they have, even though he has a nagging feeling that he should be over by Luke and Alex and not  _ intruding. _ Their relationship is addicting, though. He’s never had that with his father. It’s weird; he always thought that, because he never experienced it for himself, he wouldn’t be so drawn to relationships like this.

Maybe… that’s a can of worms to open on another day.

“Speaking of talent,” the man with the guitar says, “Julie?  _ Cantar para nosotros?” _

Reggie doesn’t know what he said, but Julie does. She nods. As they part ways—Ray moving past to fix the ofrenda, Reggie walking toward his friends, and Julie heading for the front of the room—Reggie squeezes Julie’s shoulder in passing. They share a quick smile.

“Good luck,” he says. She can’t respond, but he knows her smile is for him.

  
  


**ALEX**

Alex has never experienced this type of music live. They have a whole band up there—two guitarists, a woman sitting on a cajón box, and Julie with vocals in the center.

“And now you see Julie’s other band,” Flynn whispers to them.  _ “The Molinas.” _

The song begins softly. Alex can’t understand anything Julie’s singing, but he doesn’t have to know the words to hear her voice. As the beat picks up, so does her volume. He can see the moment she loses herself completely to the music; it’s the same at their own concerts: her eyes squeezing shut, one hand pressed in front of her and the other at her side. She can’t stand still, either. Julie steps over her younger siblings sitting on the ground carefully, but she’s bouncing on the soles of her feet. The music’s contagious—by the time she’s danced around the room and made it back to where she started, the whole room is clapping on beat. They’re grinning at each other, some singing along, some cheering.

Alex can’t fight a smile. It’s impossible. He looks at Luke and Reggie—they mirror him. The energy Julie and her family has created is infectious, as music should be; ~~even if he still doesn’t know what she’s saying.~~

Julie ends the song on her own with a stretched out note, instruments falling away with each beat she holds in a breath he can’t believe is possible. Everyone watches with bated breath, anticipation, building excitement for this girl.  _ Julie Molina _ —Alex shakes his head in disbelief. What a damn  _ star. _

Flynn leaps to her feet when Julie finally takes a breath. “WOO!” she shouts. “Go  _ off _ girl!”   


Alex finds himself laughing when the room erupts into cheers. Luke is practically vibrating with excitement. Reggie shouts with Flynn.

Julie takes a bow, shoulders bouncing with quicken breath and eyes shining under the dark makeup.

Flynn yanks her into a tight hug. “Oh my gosh, that was  _ incredible!” _ she cries. 

“Seriously,” Alex agrees. “You killed it.” He fist bumps her, hidden from the rest of the room in front of Flynn.

“I have no idea what you said, but it was  _ beautiful,” _ Reggie adds, starstruck.

Luke grins down at her. “You never cease to amaze me, Jules.”

As the excitement dies down, so does the party. The family disperses in groups until Carlos and Julie are hugging tía Victoria goodbye, and Ray is closing the door to a finally quiet home.

“So,” Ray says, turning to his kids. “One last thing to do tonight.”

Carlos nods. “I’ll grab the candles.”

"And I'll get… everything else," Julie adds. She glances at Alex and the others on her way up the stairs.

They meet her in her room. Alex sits on her bed. "So, what's next?"

"We're going to the cemetery to visit Mom's grave," Julie explains, opening her closet. She grabs a bag and joins Alex on the bed. "You guys can come if you want. People light up the graves with candles and lights—it's beautiful."

_ Sounds _ beautiful, but—Alex looks over at Luke and Reggie. They meet his gaze with as much hesitation as he feels.

"I think we're going to hang back," Luke admits softly. "It's, um… I think it's kind of weird for us, you know? Since we're…"

Julie blinks. "Oh, right. Duh. Of course." She shakes her head. "That's okay."

Alex smiles. "But we'll be here when you get home."

She nods, returning his smile. Her eyes flicker to something behind him, and she hurries around the bed. Alex is just turning to her when Reggie gasps.

“The box," he whispers.

"Don't act like at least one of you hasn't been in here already," Julie mutters, opening the box on her bed.

Alex and Reggie throw a look at Luke, who's chewing his lip sheepishly.

"What're you doing?" Luke asks, moving to her side.

"I—" Julie quickly tucks a piece of paper into her pocket. "I'm just… It's an offering for her."

Luke frowns. "Okay. Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No, it's—"

"Julie!" Ray calls up the stairs. "You ready?"

Julie sighs. "Yeah, dad!" She shifts her weight, glancing between them. "I'll tell you guys later, okay?"

Reggie nods. "Yeah, of course."

She takes two steps toward the door before turning back to them. "Group hug?" she asks hopefully. "Real quick?"

Reggie immediately wraps his arms around her. "Like you even have to ask," he mutters. They chuckle. Alex rolls off the bed, and he and Luke join in. They've been doing this a lot more: hugging. Ever since they've been able to touch each other, this has become their thing. Not that Alex is complaining.

When Julie pulls away, she's smiling so wide. Alex smiles back, but he can't help thinking there's something behind that skeletal grin. He doesn't ask; none of them do. They let her go, despite the questioning expressions they share. Later, he decides. Hopefully they can figure it out then.

**JULIE**

The cemetery was always Julie’s mom’s favorite part of Día de los Muertos. There’s a chilling beauty in a sea of lights across acres of land, crowded with people who can all relate on some level.

Rose Molina’s grave is lined with white and blue candles—she always loved the ones that smelled like the ocean. There are guitar picks scattered across the stone, most of which didn’t come from them. Ray suggested previous bandmates; Julie has never met the previous bandmates. She wants to one day; hopes to.

They stay with her for a while. She doesn’t know how long they sit by her, telling her stories about what’s happening in the past year. They have a lot to catch up on—Julie’s sure this is Carlos’ first visit since she died. It’s definitely Julie’s. Her dad’s been here a few times, only once or twice. She wonders if there have been any recent visits.

There are tears in her eyes when they finally stand to leave. Her dad catches it somehow—she’s sure her dark makeup shadowed by the dim light would’ve covered her—and before she can blink, he’s wrapping his arms around her in a tight hold. She would’ve buried her face in his chest if she had washed her paint off. But she didn’t, so she doesn’t hug as tight as she wants, and she pulls away too soon.

As they’re leaving, Julie remembers the note in her pocket. “Wait,” she says, falling out of step with them. “I forgot something.” She lingers, shifting her weight. “Can I meet you in the car?”

Carlos frowns. Dad nods. “Of course,” he says softly.

Julie watches them go, disappearing in the crowd. In just a blink, she’s alone. The note is heavy in her chest. With a deep breath, she turns back to her mom.

“Hey,” she says, sinking to her knees. “I have something I want to show you.” She crosses her legs under her and unfolds the note in her hands. “Remember that song we started writing while you were in the hospital? Stand Tall? We never… got to finish it…” With trembling hands, Julie slips the note beneath a picture frame Carlos left at the base of the stone. It’s a moment captured after Julie’s performance at The Orpheum: her, Carlos, Dad, and tía Victoria, posing under the  _ Julie and the Phantoms _ sign.

“Well, my friend Luke helped me write that second verse,” she continues. “He’s—He’s kind of more than my friend. You know who he is, and  _ what _ he is.” She laughs. “Don’t judge me too hard for this relationship, okay? He’s really… a great guy. They all are: Alex, Luke, and Reggie. They’ve helped me in… more ways that I can put into words.” The next time she laughs, her voice is shaking. She sniffs; the black on her nose smears across her hand when she rubs her face. “Anyway, um, I just wanted to give you this. And I wanted to tell you thanks. Thanks for sending the guys to me. Thanks for giving me the courage to get back into music. Thanks for…”

Julie shakes her head. The tears are back—she tries swallowing them back. Maybe if she can just hold it in for a little bit longer, at least until she takes the paint off—

“I really miss you, Mom,” she says carefully, slowly, like every word takes all of her strength. “A lot. Every day. I miss you. _I miss you._ _I love you.”_

Someone stops behind her stone. Two people, actually. Julie sniffs. She wipes at her nose again; she doesn’t care what she looks like now.

“Julie?”

That’s weird. Sounds almost like—

“Carrie?”

Julie brushes off her pants when she climbs to her feet. She sniffs again, eyeing the pair across from her: Carrie and Trevor Wilson. Trevor is holding a bouquet of flowers; it takes her breath away— _ dahlias. _

“We were just coming out to pay our respects,” Trevor says. He separates a dahlia and hands it to her.

“Nice makeup,” Carrie says, not unkindly. She’s actually smiling, kind of like she used to when they were friends.

“Thanks, I—Flynn did it. Well, not…” Julie gestures to the smudged paint.

Carrie nods. “Right.” She reaches into her bag and offers a wad of tissues. Julie takes them with a smile. They share a nod, Julie thanks Trevor for the flower, and they go their separate ways. At least Julie doesn’t feel as heavy as usual when she walks away from Carrie.

At home, when her face is clean of any paint and she can see herself again, she steps into her animal slippers and makes her way down to the studio. The guys are waiting, just like they said they would. They smile when they see her, and she smiles back, but her gaze settles on the piano, and then she can’t look away from the  _ piano. _

Two years ago, she played a song while her mom strutted around the studio, pretending to sing terribly and still managing to sound like an angel. The year before that, Julie and her family sat on the floor surrounded by candles and told ghost stories because an earthquake knocked out their electricity (that’s where Carlos’ fascination comes from). The year before  _ that, _ they—

Julie’s lip quivers. Her fingers curl around the arm of the couch, her vision blurs, and everything hurts. Someone’s in front of her in seconds—it’s Luke. He’s holding her close, tight against him, fingers in her hair, and she just  _ breaks. _

Her hands tighten into fists around his shirt. She buries her face in his shoulder; now that she’s started, she can’t stop. She tries to speak, to explain, but—

“Shh,” he whispers. “I know. I know, baby.” He kisses her hair. “It’s okay, Jules. We're here. It's okay."

She doesn’t try speaking again, and when Alex and Reggie join the hug, she just cries harder.

When she wakes the next morning, she’s on the couch. Luke’s behind her, an arm around her waist, legs tangled. Alex is in front of her, sitting against the couch with his cheek pressed against the cushion. She grimaces for him; that can’t be comfortable. On the floor, with his head in Alex’s lap is Reggie, curled in a ball against the couch. They never left her side last night.

With a heart swelling with warmth, Julie snuggles closer to Luke. Her movement causes him to hold tighter, which takes her breath away.

Julie smiles at something across from her before going back to sleep.

Laying on the coffee table in front of Alex, at the edge, as if it doesn’t want to leave her side either, is the dahlia.


End file.
